Chapter 47
Drogen stood still, his piercing gaze locked on Bruce, his brow furrowed deeply.
"There's nothing wrong with me," he said, his tone firm and unyielding.
Bruce narrowed his eyes, his voice sharp and biting. "Drogen, you're losing it. Over a human. Do you even realize what you're doing? What the hell is wrong with you?"
The words struck Drogen like a slap, forcing him to confront the truth. He exhaled slowly, his body rigid, the tension in his jaw refusing to ease. Bruce's accusation wasn't entirely baseless—back at the scene, he had been utterly consumed by rage. It was unlike him. Unthinkable.
"I..." He hesitated, his hand flexing at his side. "I'm not losing it," he muttered, more to himself than Bruce. But the words lacked conviction.
Bruce wasn't about to let it go. "You call that control? You tore through those men like a rabid beast. Torture is one thing, but that? That was something else entirely."
